


Tied up

by PoemAboutCitylights



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff, Grand Slam Final, Humor, M/M, Smut, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 23:51:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12023712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemAboutCitylights/pseuds/PoemAboutCitylights
Summary: Usually, Novak is going insane because of Andy's appearance on court but for this Grand Slam final, he makes a plan.Stuff happens.





	Tied up

"Novak and I... We're in love."  
The moment those words have left Andy's lips, calmly whispered into a microphone, Novak feels his whole world spinning around, feels blood rushing through his veins, straight in his head and the heat that his face is giving off is almost unbearable.  
How the hell had they even gotten to this point?

He remembers clearly that the day had started very usual; apart from the fact that he was about to play a Grand Slam final against the world's number one, Andy Murray.  
But he had felt good, splendid even, after a 9 hours sleep and a hot bath on top, ready to win another title this day.  
Playing Andy was always a little different for it had always been difficult for him to focus on anything when the Scot was just around breathing or worse, talking with his almost ridiculous accent that had caused Novak a few sleepless nights and sticky pants back when they were both young and already not-so-innocent.  
Andy had always been better at that, though.  
But Novak, gosh, he remembered another Grand Slam match a few years ago, when he had lost a whole serve just because Andy had raised his eyebrows seductively whenever he has trying to get the ball up in the air.  
And not to forget that time when they had played on grass and the Scot had slipped which revealed a bruised collar bone - or rather, the sensitive dark red skin Novak had sucked on and bitten carefully the night before.  
He could still hear the referee's confused voice asking him if he was ready to serve or if he also had a problem with the condition of the court and of course ' _no, Sir, I am just desperately trying not to get a hard on while watching this dork over there_ ' wasn't exactly a suitable answer to go with.

But today, he felt like Andy being the utterly attractive bastard he usually was would not bother him that much.  
In fact, he had made sure that for once, it would be Andy shooting some desperate glances over the net at the way Novak would stretch his legs and sway his hips.  
Maybe, he grinned at himself, he would change his shirt just a few more times than strictly necessary, showing off some of the skin he had not let Andy have a taste of the night before.  
It had been an evil plan, yes, but this was a Grand Slam after all and Andy should have seen it coming, really.  
As usual, they had decided not to sneak into each other's hotel rooms before a match against each other, for Andy never grew tired to claim that it would disturb him getting into the 'right mindset' and all.  
All the times before the previous evening, Novak had been absolutely fine with that since it had indeed happened on a few occasions that playing a match the day after a night with Andy was a rather 'painful' activity.  
But with Andy being the world's number one and all, Novak had felt like he had to make a plan. A good plan.  
And therefore he had made sure to snatch away the Scot's spare keys to his hotel room and get his hands on a few other utensils he would be able to make use of.

His plan had worked out perfectly, even Andy had had to admit that when his hands were tied together so that he would not be able to touch Novak at all while the other Grand Slam Finalist teased the Brit with soft kisses to his neck, a tongue against that sensitive spot right above Andy's collar bones and fingers ghosting along the insides of the Brit's legs while Novak never actually got close to doing anything about the growing buldge in Andy's pants.  
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Nole?!", Andy had groaned at first but the surprised tone had soon shifted to a pained moan when Novak had sucked on his left nipple.  
"No...va-k!", he had eventually cried out while breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed in a dark shade of red and Novak had almost - almost - given in to granting his boyfriend the release he desperately wished for but No.  
He had another Grand Slam title to win, after all.  
Instead, Novak had crawled over the Scot's aroused body to softly brush his lips against Andy's mouth, drawing away smirking when his boyfriend tried to deepen the kiss.  
"God, Nole, how on earth should I be able to play a final against you without stripping you right there on Centre Court?!"  
Novak had just smirked at that, "I'm sure you'll work something out, babe. But then again... Maybe that's just what I want?"  
Novak had winked at the Scot and had then left a heavily panting Andy Murray behind.

And to make his plan of getting Andy distracted on court, for once, work, Novak made sure that their paths would not cross until the actual showdown.  
He slept in late, came down to eat his breakfast when everyone else had already left and brought his stuff to the locker rooms when he knew that Andy would be busy with the press.  
Usually, Novak's schedule was always planned out and he himself detested it if an other player would let him wait on the court but today, he didn't hurry when making his way to Centre Court.  
He took some time to fix his shoes, adjusted his clothes, double checked his rackets and only then stepped out, determinedly avoiding to take a look at his opponent whose annoyed aura could probably be sensed in New Zealand.  
Novak had to suppress a grin and eventually marched to the net where Andy was already waiting for him.  
The Scot looked fine, a little more focused than usual, maybe but Novak, being the person that had to deal with the moods of the world's number one the most, was sure to spot a crack beneath the professional facade he had put up.  
There was a fire burning in Andy's eyes which he usually only put up 'after' winning a title (or in the after glow, for that matter) and while there were almost invisible shadows under his eyes, a dark shade of red was ghosting over Novak's boyfriend's high cheekbones.  
"Slept well?" Novak asked teasingly and when he extended a hand, Andy grabbed it with both of his and increased the pressure to a point where Novak was actually afraid that it might have an impact on his play.  
But before he could shoot the Scot a dark glance, his boyfriend mumbled a, "I bet you did" and walked away.  
Novak sighed.

The first set started pretty good for him.  
He won his serves straight and Andy obviously struggled with his; even though he could bring home his first two serves after a 40:40, he missed too many points after that and 30 minutes into the match, it was a 4:2 for Djokovic.  
By now, he did not waste a single thought on his plan of the previous night; this was a Grand Slam final, one he could actually win and yes, on the other side of the net stood Andy fucking Murray, the man he had shared desperate kisses and secrete nights with since they were 15, but at this very moment, shortly before the end of the first set, this was nothing but a tennis match that Novak wanted to win at all costs.  
It was Andy's time to serve again and after a double fault, the Scot angrily shouted something with such a heavy accent that Novak did not understand a single word of it.  
What followed was a straight ace and there it was again; the fire in his opponent's eyes that usually only showed right after or in the final minutes of a tense match.  
The next point was Novak's and the following two as well and then it was over.  
He had won the first set with 6:2.  
The silence of the crowd and then the almost explosive applause showed him that he wasn't the only one who had never in a billion years expected a result like this one.  
Sure, he had known that he was able to beat Andy today - but he had rather thought of several tie breaks, to be honest.  
But then again, this was only the first set and heaven knows that nothing is ever set when it comes to the Scottish number one.  
Andy didn't talk to him during the short break that followed but that's nothing unusual.  
However, he caught Andy staring at him when they headed back, with an expression that he could not read and when he winked at his boyfriend, the Brit almost snorted.  
The second set continued the way the first ended; Andy brought through his first serve, Novak won his and the Scot's following after a tough battle where Andy was all long legs and enormous arms, sprinting across the court, missing Novak's drop shots by just a centimeter.  
Soon, it was 4:1 for Djokovic and Andy was gritting his teeth so hard that Novak thought he could actually hear it.  
He won the second set 6:1.  
They both headed inside to go to the toilets and when Novak grabbed a towel from his locker room, he felt a strong hand shoving him against the wall.  
"Ouch! What-..."  
Before he could say anything else, a large hand covered his mouth and when he looked up, he stared into the burning undefinable colour that was Andy's eyes.  
"Listen," the Scot breathed out and hot air hit Novak's nose.  
"You, Nole, are a little piece of... Urgh! This isn't over yet!"  
"Really? That's not exactly what a 6:2, 6:1 implies, Andy," Novak smirked and wished he could capture this moment forever, the way the tall Scot was almost pressing into him, his lips slightly parted and his breath coming in little puffs.  
God, angry Andy was adorable and maybe he should-...  
Novak only realized that he had gotten up on his tiptoes when Andy pushed him back into the locker and held him firmly by his shoulder, "Don't, Nole."  
Novak sighed and untangled himself from his boyfriend, "We should go back, Andy. You go first."  
The Scot nodded and when he was already halfway out of the room, he turned around and mouthed an " _I love you_ " at Novak, which he answered with an eye roll and a " _fuck off_ ".

Novak had not expected what happened in set three.  
Wasn't prepared for it at all.  
At one point, he was actually wondering if he had somehow missed something; if the two first sets had been strategically planned out by Andy, because...  
It was Novak's time to serve first but Andy won the first game 40:0, then his own serve without giving the other any chance to win a single point, Andy also won Novak's second serve, 40:15 this time, but still.  
Sooner than Novak's brain could function, it was 5:2 for Murray and the moment Andy won the final point of the third set, he screamed out all the frustration of the first sets and Novak could only stare at his boyfriend in awe.

Set 4 for was nothing but a battle.  
Novak was back to winning his own serves but Andy won his straight and God, Novak thought, this was probably the best match he had ever played.  
There was no one in the world that could play the way Andy did; with his height and his strong legs, he seemed to catch all the balls that would have been easy points otherwise.  
There was something so pure, so emotional about the way the Scot let his anger, his determination show, that Novak felt drawn into this match like he had never experienced it before.  
There were only the two of them, just Andy and him, without the millions watching them on Centre Court and back at home.  
In the end, Andy won the fourth set and Novak couldn't help staring at his boyfriend when pure relief was rolling over the Brit and he raised a fist up high in the air.

The final set went by in a rush, with adrenaline flooding Novak's veins and determination clearing his mind.  
Andy got lucky with the net two times and after 48 minutes, it was 5:4 for Andy and his time to serve.  
The air around them was almost cracking and suddenly, the wind was too hot and the grass too slippy and his wrist too tired and Novak could not do anything about it when his racket left his hand and hit the ball in a too wrong angle.  
For a few seconds, he didn't hear anything, but then there was Andy's shout filling the hot evening air, his voice filling Novak's ears and for a moment, he was tempted to cover his ears with his hands to not hear anything of that but his feet moved almost automatically, bringing him close to the net where he stood waiting for Andy who was still shouting something at his box, all the tension gone from his body while Novak greeted the familiar emptiness after losing a match that means everything.  
How the hell had that even happened?  
It had seemed like a safe thing after the second set but then Andy had been Andy and... been better?  
Novak was deep in his thoughts when he spotted the Scot eventually coming to the net as well and for a split second, Novak was shocked by the determination that was still burning in Andy's eyes, like something he could not understand was about to happen.  
He opened his mouth, closed it again and while he caught sight of a camera man zooming in on them, Andy put Novak's head between his hands and captured the Serb's lips with his own, muffling a surprised noise in the process.  
Andy's kiss wasn't soft, it was demanding and sloppy and _desperate_ , like he was eagerly trying to get closer to the Serb, with his tongue running across Novak's bottom lip and a hand sneaking in his neck to pull him in.  
And when Novak finally gave in, he felt Andy go all soft against him, felt his arms coming to rest around his waist, his body fitting against his perfectly and his face now hid away in the crook of Novak's neck, where Andy's lips formed soft words against the Serb's sensitive skin.  
"You played so well," the Brit whispered and Novak snorted but his hand was in Andy's hair and he drew in the scent of sweat and victory.  
"You played better."  
He could feel Andy grin against his skin and the Scot sighed happily, "Yes. And I didn't let you fuck with my head."  
"Well, I've got some news for you, then. You are the one that didn't want to make us public but kissed me on a fucking Centre Court."  
Andy slowly raised his head and Novak felt lost just by looking in his eyes.  
His gaze said ' _you know it isn't that easy_ ' but his mouth said, "God, Nole, I love you so fucking much".  
This whole situation was so absurd that Novak could not help laughing out loud and Andy joined in soon and damnit, was this really his life?

Apparently it is, because 30 minutes later, he's had a shower and a hit to his chest by his brothers because he didn't tell them about Andy sooner, and he is sitting next to Andy in a press conference, the mic so close to his mouth that it tickles his lips.  
When the Scot's pinky finger entangles with his own, he is reminded of all the times he has held Andy's hand beneath a table during a press conference and he identifies the feeling that is now rushing through his body as relief.  
After all these years, they will eventually tell the public about them and Novak still cannot suppress a grin when he thinks of what Andy whispered into his hear before they made it into the press conference room.

  
" _You better not tell them about that little mind game of yours or I'll tie up against the referee's chair in nothing but your sweaty wristbands the night before our next Slam final."_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this piece during Wimbledon but never posted is so heeere it is now.  
> I'm still heartbroken that those two are not at the US Open but I'm very much looking forward to 2018.
> 
> I know this one shot is a mess but I wrote it at like 3am and I'd still love to hear your thoughts in the comments.  
> Thanks in advance!  
> <3


End file.
